Barrel of a gun
by Sakon-chan
Summary: Facing death, Cross reminisces the hardships he faced with Allen as a child, does he regret it? Short, drabble-fic/first publish 3 . Light cursing. Spoiler


Cross' sight wandered from the monstrous being that was holding Judgement to his head to the gleaming barrel, his sight tracing over the bullet ready to end his life. Was it amusing? His own tool—His Innocence, was now going to kill him. What a way to go, that's all he could muse to himself. His thoughts wandered, had he done enough?

He couldn't help but reminisce the past events of his life.

No.

_Allen Walker._

* * *

Thinking twice wasn't something Cross Marian did, he had a certain outlook on life that was, "If I can do it then why the fuck not?" Of course this brought on consequences; between being chased by thugs for money and seducing their girls, running up horrid debts for his student, and being immobile after drinking out nearly a cellar-full of lavish wine.

But nothing could have prepared him for this, nothing.

The general exorcist walked, his arms set securely around the figure he held closely to his chest—He had to protect it, it was Neah's wish, to protect and guide the next vessel for the Fourteenth—Allen Walker. So this boy was the one who would try to over throw the Millennium Earl; wasn't it amusing? Cross found it intriguing, how the Millennium Earl had spared Allen's life, how he hadn't seen link between the former Fourteenth, Neah, Mana, and Allen? Maybe he was just playing along with it, after all, the Earl did enjoy a good game.

Cross arrived at the door of Mother's cottage, knocking on the wooden door with three brisk movements of his hand. It had been so long since he had last visited—But this was no time for any affectionate greetings.

"Mother!~ I'll get it!~~"

He could already hear the great, thundering steps of the bear-like mama's boy who was 'Baba'. Cross found him irritating, but after a bottles of wine he could bring himself to peacefully co-exist amongst the elderly woman and her hefty son.

"Oh Father! How nice to—MOTHER."

Cross wasn't entirely pleased with Baba's screeching for a bed to be made available for the sick, wounded orphan but at least he knew that this was a business trip, not for his own pleasure at all. After the situation was briefly explained to Mother and Baba, Cross made no haste to lay Allen down in the clean bed prepare for him. The boy just stared at the ceiling, as though he was completely numb yet the left side of his face was split and a searing angry red.

Allen's appearance had changed so since that fateful encounter with The Millennium Earl. His hair turned from a mousy brown to a stark white from shock. He was no longer that rebellious, rude little boy, but now a shivering mess, too afraid to do nothing but just stare ahead of him and block out the everything around him.

But, that was when the pain was silenced.

"Allen! Stay still—Dammit! Mother get those wet towels!"

Cross held the trashing boy down with all his weight, but Allen just wouldn't stop convulsing and wiggling. The pain was too much, the boy would froth at the mouth and sometimes vomit from the excruciating periods of agony and torture the boy would endure. Mother and Baba would just watch, clueless to what they could do to help Allen.

He took a pull of his cigarette. Oh sweet tobacco, without it, and a generous glass of wine at the end of every night, Cross felt as if he would have already lost all patience. But he couldn't regardless, right? He heaved a sigh, closing his eyes as he leaned out the window of the small cottage bedroom.

"Something on your mind, Cross?"

He turned his head to look over his should to see Mother standing at the doorway, her old, white eyes analysing his every move. He replied curtly, not much thought going into his answer.

"Of course, how could it be at ease? A screaming, white-haired brat and a steadily decline in my patience tends to cloud it but.. Sometimes I can't help think, why that kid?"

The exorcist drew another breath from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the night air.

".. Would you rather Neah have chosen a scumbag?"

Mother coughed, instantly sparking a comedic reaction from Cross as he snapped back, staring the old woman down.

"What is that supposed to mean?.."

".. Nothing, just think about it instead of throwing a hissy fit, idiot."

As quickly as the old woman had appeared, she left to return to the den of the tiny cottage, leaving Cross to think to himself about the intentions of the Fourteenth. She was right, and he knew it so damn well. What was so special about this kid anyway? To Cross, without the memories of the Fourteenth planted in him, Allen was just another snivelling street-rat. It wasn't jealousy, just maybe curiosity.

The next few months were vital; Allen had finally began speaking again after a long period of nurture and care from the trio, even if he had began speaking more like Mana than his old self. At least he was on his feet. He'd need his strength after all, training under Cross certainly wouldn't be a walk in the park.

And as foretold, Allen faced many hardships, between the death of a close childhood friend, fulfilling lavish and often unnecessary requests for his master, and then finally becoming an Exorcist. But Cross couldn't help but think—

Was it all that necessary for someone who is destined to disappear?

* * *

As the gun was cocked and placed directly on Cross' masked eye, the red-haired man cracked his final grin, his cigarette falling to the floor as he chuckled.

"Hell yes."

Then, an echoing gunshot resounded through the entire Order.


End file.
